


Pancakes with a Serial Killer

by ZLynn



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, Serial Killer Gamzee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZLynn/pseuds/ZLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavros Nitram lives in a small town where a serial killer is hunting. While Tavros thinks he's safe he's proven wrong when Gamzee comes along to stay in his apartment until the rain stops. Now, Tavros is forced to deal with both Gamzee and his own little feelings.</p><p>-Told by everyone's favorite Narrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Excuse me what?

**Author's Note:**

> I am really, really, new here and this is my first work on this site. I'm not even joking, when this posts it'll probably post ten or so minutes after I joined the site. Anyway, I apologize in advance if both Gamzee or Tavros seem a bit out of character. This is simply how I think of them in this situation. Think of this as kind of a pilot, I'm not strictly sure if anyone will actually like these, other than the various friends who've read it, so I'm just going to post a short chapter before I come out with the longer ones. Anywho, enjoy!

Your name is Tavros Nitram and you have no idea how you got yourself into this. You live in a small town not far from a just as small city. Recently your town has been plagued by a juggalo who has been doing a very good job at killing absolutely anyone in his way. There was exactly one incredibly blurry picture that had surfaced about three days ago. You couldn't see much details on it other than the shadows that lay where the eyes and mouth should be. People figured that the person had been wearing makeup of some sort and suddenly everyone said it was a juggalo. He'd killed nine people already and had left no evidence at all let alone a pattern.

It's frightening and you honestly thought you were safe in your one bedroom one bathroom apartment on the third floor. 

Evidently you were wrong.

You're currently sitting up in your bed with your back firmly pressed against someone's chest. This someone has a firm grip around your shoulders and a knife pressed lightly against your neck. The arm around your stomach is pale and cold and you assume the person had been outside for a long time before breaking in; plus he was pretty damp.

"Now look here motherfucker, I don't want no screaming or none from you. I'm just looking for a place to crash until this rain goes and gets itself dry," he murmurs into your ear, as if saying it any louder would alert the police. 

You nod stiffly. "O-okay."

You feel him grin against your neck. "Good, now come and get your feet on the ground."

"U-um..." Now how are you supposed to explain your paralysis to a serial killer? Sure it was dark in your room and he probably couldn't see your wheelchair, but you aren't really use to telling people and you almost feel embarrassed to even admit it. Then again he is a serial killer so you doubt he actually cares.

Though you suppose this could be a normal break-in--if there is such thing as a normal break-in--because you have yet to see his face, so you have no idea if he really is the juggalo terrorizing your town.

He growls a bit. "Come on motherfucker, I don't got all night."

"I...uh."

"What? Does a motherfucker not know how to walk?" He spits sarcastically.

"Well, no, I can't walk," you stammer.

Silence surrounds you before he huffs in your ear. "Well all a motherfucker had to do was own up." He pokes at your thigh and you feel just a slight pressure from his finger. "So a motherfucker can't feel anything? Not even that?"

"W-well, not exactly. I can, uh, feel from mid-thigh up, but otherwise I, uh, can't feel anything," you relay the information the doctor had given you quite comfortably. It's not the first time someone has asked and defiantly not the first time you've answered. The Doctor had told you it was an odd case, your legs were fine the nerves in them, however, just weren't working and made it impossible for you to even bend your knee. They weren't exactly sure why and so far had been unable to do anything to fix it. You didn't mind though, it wasn't too hard to get around in your apartment even with your chair and your job only involved getting on you computer and testing some online games or helping with the general coding of one. Simple and easy; and provided a good excuse to play games all day.

"Hm...," he hums before grabbing under your knees and lifting your legs. You fall further into his chest and you'll admit that, while the warmth is comfortable, the fact that he's wiggling your legs like limp noodles highly disconcerts you. 

"H-hey! What are you doing?" You squeal.

He laughs, "Ah man! Your legs are like noodles!"

"Stop!" You demand, but your demand comes out as another squeal which makes him laugh even harder.

"Alright alright, don't fret none." He lets go of your legs and instead shoves his hand down right onto your groin.

You let out another girlish squeal.

"Can a motherfucker feel this?"

Your face is as red as a tomato and his laugh pounds against your ears. 

"Well at least you can motherfucking enjoy some pleasure." He lets go and lets his hand rest on your stomach. "Well, you hang tight while I get somethin'"

He pushes you off him and you fall face first into your sheets. You hear him rustle around before he returns.

"Now, I don't mean nothin' by this but I can't have you goin' and givin' your neighbors any know how that I'm here." He holds up some cloth--something you can't actually identify in the dark--and precedes to gag and tie you to your bed before you can protest. "Now, I'm just going to be showerin' so you won't be tied for long. Relax! Take a nap or something motherfucker, you seem like you could use it."

He leaves and goes out into the hall. The lights flick on and you watch his back retreat into your bathroom. He's wearing a black t-shirt and what looks like pajama pants, both items of clothing are horrendously baggy and both seem damp. His hair also seems to be wet and the mob of black curls could of looked attractive if he hadn't of broken into your apartment and tied you to your bed. 

You just lay there kind of stunned. This doesn't happen right? People don't just come into your apartment, tie you to your bed and then take a shower, right? The sound of it is completely ridiculous.

Of course he could be planning something else. Something worse.

You're instantly worrying and you struggle slightly. Just when you're about to give it your all and struggle until your wrists bleed he pokes his head into your doorway. You can easily see the greasepaint with the hall light illuminating his features.

"Oh, uh, just wanted to make sure you ain't worryin' or nothin', but I ain't gonna hurt you unless you don't do as I say. You listen to me and you'll be alright. Got that motherfucker?"

You nod and he grins. "Good! I'll be out in a few." 

He disappears and you lay there feeling slightly better. But only slightly. 

He was wearing greasepaint. Greasepaint that made him look like the juggalo in the blurry pictures the news had been sporting.

So the serial killer was taking a shower in your apartment, had groped you and had tied you to your bed with a promise not to hurt you.

Okay, you're allowed to have a nervous break down now.

He didn't take too long in the shower, and you hear him leave within twenty minutes or so. However, he doesn't come into the bed room. You hear him moving around in the kitchen. You lay there--actually dozing because it's probably almost midnight and you've been tired all day--before he pokes his head into your doorway again.

"Does a motherfucker like pancakes?"

"Uh, yeah?"

He leaves and you continue to wonder how he can suddenly be so calm and happy, like he hasn't broken into someone's apartment and tied them to the bed. It concerns you quite a lot and you're wondering if maybe he's cooking you something with poison in it.

Then you realize he put his greasepaint on again after showering. Did that mean he was planning to leave you alive? If he hadn't of put it on, and shown you his face, then he would probably kill you, right?

Maybe.

Why does he say 'motherfucker' all the time? Was he trying to be insulting or was that just how he talked?

You haven't the foggiest.

You keep asking yourself these kinds of questions before he comes in with a grin.

"Motherfucker better be hungry," he comments. He unties you then eyes your wheelchair. He shrugs and instead of putting you in your chair he picks you up.

You immediately squeal. Your arms wrap around his neck and you hug on for dear life.

It's not like you've never been picked up before. You have. When you were in the hospital. However, you have never been picked up by a seven foot tall serial killer who seems to have no restraint when it came to your person space.

He carries you over to your kitchen table and sets you down on one of the few chairs you own. He puts a plate of pancakes in front of you then goes and sits across from you, his own plate topped with dozens of pancakes. 

You stare at them. You've never had pancakes for dinner before. You wonder if they'll taste any different when your eating them at night opposed to the morning. You wonder if you'll be able to taste the poison if he put any in. You cut off a small piece and stare at the fried dough on your fork.

"Go on motherfucker, this shit is made with miracles."

You decide to not ponder on what he means and you slip the piece of food into your mouth thinking that you don't have much of a choice anyhow.

You guess you can agree that it's miraculously delicious, and before you know it you're shoveling more down your throat like you haven't eaten in ten years.

He's laughing.

"I knew you'd like it motherfucker."

You set down your fork and nod. "Yeah, it was good."

He sighs and stretches on the chair. "Man, am I tired. What are you named bro?"

"Uh, Tavros..."

"Huh, alright Tavbro, let's go to bed."

Wait... What?

"O-okay?"

He smiles and picks you up again. You expect him to drop you off on the couch and tie you up again but instead he continues on to your room. You let out a grunt as he deposits you on your bed. He leaves briefly to turn off all the lights before hopping into bed with you.

Your bed is situated against the far wall in a corner. So he pushes you against the wall and hugs you against his chest.

"Tavbro's gotta stay here all night, okay?"

You nod. 

Just do as he say, you tell yourself, and you'll be fine. Your head lays just under his chin. His arms have circled around your waist and back. One of his legs curl around your own and suddenly you're trapped. 

"Jeez, relax Tavbro! We just sleepin'."

You close your eyes and try to imagine that he isn't a serial killer. That you aren't snuggling up next to a man who wouldn't think twice about killing you.

You try relaxing, you really do, but you can't get your head around these facts. What were you even supposed to call him?

"W-what's your name?" You ask, then quickly add, "I just want to, uh, know what I'm suppose to call you."

He doesn't respond at first but then answers, "My name's Gamzee."

You nod and, trying to be somewhat polite, even in this situation, you say, "Goodnight Gamzee."

"Goodnight Tavbro."

You don't know how you manage, but somehow you fall asleep.


	2. Is This a Mistake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do feel like I took the whole romance angle to quickly; but hey, they don't have too long together. I'll give it too them.

When you wake up all you hear is the sound of rain and Gamzee's breathing. You remember the weather channel had said it would be raining for the next couple of weeks. Or at least all of the current week. You can understand why Gamzee decided to break into someone's place; while it was risky he could easily get access to food, warmth and all other necessities that he probably couldn't get on the streets. Especially in the rain. 

You think he's probably ecstatic about finding you. You're probably the easiest person to manage with your anxiety, lack of confidence and the fact that you're paralyzed. To be honest you have no idea how people haven't started abusing you sooner. 

It's not like you live in a very nice town, you simply live here because your parents wouldn't let you live three states away and had opted to help you with an apartment so you could have your privacy. You were happy that they hardly visited and instead e-mailed or called you every once in awhile.

However, right now you wouldn't mind your mother coming to your rescue.

You sigh and decide to take advantage of the snuggling. It's not like you've ever had anyone snuggle with you, killer or not, so a little snuggling back can't be too bad; plus the warmth is an opportunity you can't pass up.

You push your head further under Gamzee's chin and you don't stiffen when his arms automatically tighten around you. He pushes you even further into his chest and lets one hand tangle into your messy Mohawk. He ends up curling around you, pushing your head into his neck and leaving you in some sort of hug. He's still asleep though so you don't particularly mind. You just hope he doesn't push you off the bed or something when he wakes up and realizes how close you are.

You let your hand stroke though his hair. It's dark and silky. You wonder if it's naturally so or if it's from your shampoo he undoubtedly used. Still, his hair is very curly and that should make it a bit more tangle-y, but it's not. Your hand brushes past his ear and you swear you feel an ear ring; and it turns out you do. Just a little stub. Under all those curls you wonder what the point would be, you certainly didn't see it. Then again... You pull away a bit so you can get a better look at his face. The greasepaint looks a bit darker now, almost a pale purple with a darker stripe that curled into a smile. Then you notice the lip piercing.

You really question your ability to take in details now, because that it definitely noticeable.

Still, the piercing does nothing to deter Gamzee's appearance. Honestly you feel like it enhanced his image. While it doesn't seem like he has any tattoos--to your knowledge anyhow--he still holds a type of punk appearance. You like it. It fits his persona. Still you're not exactly sure that his appearance holds true to his attitude. You already get a feeling that his attitude can swing drastically. One moment he can be happily making pancakes and in the next your being stabbed by a sharpened spatula end. You really hope he doesn't stab you with your own kitchen utensils.

It's not like you can do anything about it now anyway. It's far too late to fight back now that your snug against his chest, so you might as well just go with it until he kills you.

You're dozing, the warmth this man secretes is amazing, when he starts twitching. You don't really understand what's happening until he's groaning in pain. He's holding you tighter and you realize that he's probably having a nightmare.

"G-Gamzee?"

He's still twitching, as if his body is trying to get away from something. His arms flex around you and you really wonder what he's dreaming.

"Gamzee wake up..." 

Honestly you have no idea what you're supposed to do. So you end up pushing at his chest so you can shake him awake. He doesn't let you go though and you squeak when his hand tightens around your shoulder in a bruising grip.

"Gamzee!" 

Your hands blindly grab his hair and you move your fingertips down to his face. 

You realize he's crying, your head had been stuck under his chin so you never even figured. Now you're thrown through a loop. What does a serial killer have to cry about? Is his nightmare so scary that not even a harden criminal like him can ignore it?

"H-hey Gamzee..."

You stroke his cheek, one hand moving into his hair and pulling softly at his curls. He doesn't immediately calm down, but after a few minutes of gently petting him he stops shaking. His arms are looser around you and you figure he's calmed down enough that you can wake him. You stop petting him and instead poke at his chest.

"H-hey Gamzee? You okay?"

"Hmm?" He pushes away from you a little before realizing what happened. "Oh shit, sorry about that Tavbro. I ain't been sleepin' well lately."

He untangles himself from you and sits up. He seems a bit embarrassed and you again wonder how he can act so normal under such odd circumstances. 

"What was it about?" You ask, honestly curious. 

"Well, lately I've been dreamin' pretty sick dreams. And not the good kind of sick. It's all bloody and stuff. Honestly kind of scares me..." He rubs at the back of his head bashfully and looks at the wall his other hand rubbing at his eyes, slightly smearing his greasepaint.

"...did you see a blond girl with different colour eyes?" You guess, hoping that he'll say no. 

"Yeah actually. How'd you know?" He looks at you with honest surprise. 

You don't know how to tell him. You can't believe that he doesn't actually know. His last victim had been a blond with one blue and one green eye. She had been rather young and the news had circled around her for a while. You decide to tell the truth but you do so cowering in the corner he'd put you in.

"Somebody killed her a couple nights ago... They said it was someone who had greasepaint on... like how yours is."

He stares at you for a moment and you can see he doesn't believe you, but he realizes that your serious and his face contorts to horror.

"T-that was me? Are you sure? 'Cause you motherfucking better be sure."

You nod and he jumps off your bed and rushes over to your computer.

"What are they callin' me?"

"J-just the juggalo..."

You hear him typing and you don't dare look at him until his typing has stopped and he's silent. You glance over and you see a picture the news had shown a morning ago on the computer screen. It was blurry but the dark shadows on his face matched the ones Gamzee wore now. You're sure he realizes that your telling the truth but all he does is stare at the computer screen.

"G-Gamzee?"

He pauses before closing the browser and turning to you.

"I'm sorry bro, you must a been thinking that I was gonna cut you up. I ain't I swear. I had no idea about this here killin'." He looks distraught and it doesn't seem like he can look you in the eye. 

"How?"

He sighs. "Well, I ain't very stable, obviously, and I use to be on some meds; but then my parents kicked me out so I don't got 'em no more..." He trails off and looks down at the floor. "Shit bro, I didn't mean it..."

You would have suggested that he turn himself in, but you know they'd probably execute him and for some reason you can't stand to think about him dying. 

"So, is it like another personality or, uh, something?"

"More like voices...like schizophrenia or some shit. Sometimes they get so bad that I blank out. I guess that's when I'm doin' it... Man, Tavbro what do I do? I ain't gonna turn myself in or nothin' but I gotta keep these voices at bay so I don't hurt no one."

"Well, do you have an anchor?" You suggest. You heard about it from a show on TV. Honestly a lot of your knowledge comes from TV or various parts of the Internet. 

"Huh?" 

"Oh, uh..." You stumble on your words. "You know, an anchor, something to, uh, hold onto when things get hard..."

"So, someone that'll keep the voices away?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

He leans into your wheelchair, which he used as a desk chair since you don't actually have one, and nods. "Alright, I guess I get it. I'll find one after a bit if food. Got any pizza?"

You would have burst out laughing if you had found it appropriate. 

You shake you head and he shrugs. "Wanna go get some?"

"What..." He's unbelievable. "Y-you're a serial killer! You can't just go walking outside and buying pizza with me! Plus you, uh, kind of broke into my apartment, remember? How can you be so calm?" You exclaim. 

He frowns. "I could get all fucking forceful on you. I could make you do whatever the fuck I want and there wouldn't be one motherfucking thing you could do about it."

You shut your mouth at that and back up against the wall a bit more.

"Uh...I'm, um..."

"So, pizza?"

He's wearing a shit-eating grin because he knows your answer. He wheels your chair over to you and places you in it.

"Do you want take out? 'Cause there's a gas station with pretty good frozen pizzas just at the corner." You say, glaring begrudgingly at the ground. 

"Alright! Let's get us some grub!" He wheels you up to the door before stopping. "Oh shit! I almost forgot." He runs into the bathroom and comes out with a washed face. You'll admit that he has a pretty handsome face, his skin is awfully pale and has three long scars--which was really noticeable though his makeup hid them very well--but you know you'd defiantly recognize him even without the greasepaint. His hair is a dead give away. 

"Hey, go get a rubber band from the kitchen," you tell him. 

He does and you gesture for him to kneel. He kneels down in between your legs and you take the rubber band, collecting as much of his wild hair as you can and put it all in a small pony tail on his neck.

He looks a lot different with the curls out of his face and you feel like people won't be able to recognize him as easily. People are looking for a mop headed man with greasepaint on, not a guy with three scars on his face and a ponytail. Either way he's pretty recognizable but both images are different enough from each other that you hope no one will put two and two together and find him out.

"Well now motherfucker, am I all good to go out?"

"Y-yeah."

He smiles and takes your rain coat, which had been laying on your couch next to another bundle which you assume is Gamzee's own jacket, and drapes it over your head. He puts on his jacket, which is just as baggy as his shirt and in desperate need of dry cleaning, you guess it was the only thing protecting him from the weather before you, and wheels you out of your apartment. 

It's dark outside and it's still raining heavily. Gamzee pulls your rain coat over you more tightly before continuing outside. 

"So how'd you get, uh, into my apartment?" You ask, leaning back into your chair. 

"Oh, well I saw you hide your key under your mat, so I just sorta took it. Got to be more careful Tavbro!"

You frown and hide behind your jacket.

Gamzee rushes to the corner gas station and quickly goes in. He pushes you over to the refrigeration section and mulls over the pizzas. 

You glance over to cashier to find her casually sitting at her stool, paying absolutely no mind to you or Gamzee.

"Hey, you mind meat lovers?" Gamzee asks, eying the pizzas like he's about to chose a wedding ring.

"Pick whatever you want, uh, I don't mind."

He picks up three boxes and sets them on your lap then he pulls out _your_ wallet from his pocket. 

"Where'd you find my wallet?" Honestly you're surprised. You'd lost your wallet sometime yesterday morning and the fact that he had found it disturbed you.

"It was on your sink Tavbro," he chuckles.

Oh, well isn't that embarrassing.

He sets the pizzas on the counter and smiles as the lady rings you up. 

"That'll be eight dollars and ninety-seven cents," she drones.

You look just over her shoulder and see a the blurry picture if Gamzee as well as a caption warning to be careful.

You watch with baited breath as Gamzee hands her a ten and as she gives him the change. 

"Have a good day," her voice holds practically no emotion and you're happy that she didn't recognize Gamzee.

Gamzee nods and sets the bagged pizzas on your lap before wheeling you out. 

"Well wasn't she a bundle of joy," he comments.

You nod and hold onto the cold pizzas. Gamzee rushes back to your apartment and heads into the elevator. Just as the doors are closing a lady, who lives just a floor below you, gets in. She smiles at you, "Hello Tavros! What a horrid day don't you think?"

"Y-yeah, I hate the rain," you reply. You glance over at Gamzee who looks positively nervous. 

The women looks over at Gamzee suspiciously. "Who is this?" She asks.

You could turn him in. You could easily tell her that he's the serial killer and to call the cops. 

"Oh, he's one of my friends," you lie.

The elevator stops at her floor and she smiles. "Nice to meet you," she says to Gamzee before she leaves.

Gamzee lets out a breath, "Damn Tav, you coulda turned me in."

You shrug, "I could of..." He wheels you to your door before answering.

"Why didn't you? I wouldn't have done anything to stop 'ya."

He opens the door and pushes you in. "I don't know, I guess I just didn't want to."

He smiles widely and pushes you over to your small living room. "Bro, I'm going to make you the best damn pizza. You're taste buds will be bathing in miracles."

"Make?" You ask as he pushes the pizza boxes off your lap and picks you up. You lean into him without thinking about it, even pulling the rubber band out of his hair. "But these ones are pre-made." 

"Yeah, but that don't mean that they be up and ready to be eaten. You know they always need somethin' added to be all nice and good."

You shrug, you don't particularly mind if he adds more cheese or whatever he dubs the pizza's needs. If he can make pancakes into the best dinner food you've ever had than you're going to assume that he's going to make the pizza into a food to die for.

He sets you down on your couch and you watch as he rushes over to the kitchen and messes with the oven before coming over to sit in front of your small DVD collection. 

"Anything you wanna watch Tavbro?" He asks, plopping down on his back and looking at the back of one of your Disney films. 

You honestly think you looks a lot like a child right now and the addition of the children's movies doesn't help the image.

"Pick whatever," you state. You may have a hefty collection of the good old Disney movies that grown adults still get emotional about, but you do have some more modern movies. You're sure he'll find something he likes; though inwardly you hope he doesn't find any of the horror films your father saddled you with - which you had procrastinating throwing away. 

Of course to your luck he finds one. He triumphantly holds up one of the Saw series disk. You didn't even know you had it. 

Horror is clearly written on your face.

Gamzee smirks, eyebrows raise. "Pick any?"

You know your face is red out of embarrassment. He crawls over to you, twirling the disk on his finger, and pushes himself up close to you; so close that your nose almost touches his. "How about some horror today?"

There's a hard frown carved on your face; you take the disk from him unexpectedly and throw it. He watches it sail across the room, his mouth agape. The disk shatters on the far wall and the only thing that crosses your mind is that you had no idea that you could throw that hard.

"No."

Gamzee looks between you and the shattered disk for a moment before nodding once. "Okay," he says a smile creeping on his face. "Aren't you cute when you're frustrated."

You're flush brightly. "Gamzee!" You complain.

He falls back onto the floor laughing. "Man, you're easy to spook!"

"I'm not spooked..." You pout.

"Fine, maybe you ain't spooked but..." He moves back to his previous spot close to you. Your noses are touching and his breath tickles against your skin. "I can make ya blush like a school girl."

Giant bright red warning signs are popping off in your head. "Go back to making your pizza!" You exclaim, your arms shooting out to push him away. He laughs loudly and stumbles back into the kitchen, throwing you the TV remote as he goes.

"Find us somethin' to watch then, ya?"

You lean back into the cushions and mindlessly flick through the channels. You keep thinking that you're insane, you have to be. You're acting like you two have been friends for years now and this is just your weekend movie time together. It's not, you remind yourself. He broke into your house, made you sleep in the same bed with him which was comfortable and warm and you kind of wish that-

No.

Now you know you're insane. Maybe you've got that syndrome thing. The one where you're a hostage and you start to like your captor. What was it? Stockholm? You have no idea. However you consider the concept. Would it take a bit longer under captivity for you to have it? Isn't it after a year or something? Come to think of it you never found his actual presence threatening. Hell, you made yourself comfortable in his arms while he was sleeping. 

You start to think the syndrome doesn't apply to you. 

In fact, you kind if want to be in those arms right now. Thinking about it makes you blush harder. Being in his embrace with his arms curled around you, one hand at your waist and the other brushing through your hair, your head just under his chin and your hands fingering his shirt. You know you want it but the very feeling of wanting it scares you.

Why do you want it? How is it he's completely tore down your insecurities and made you suddenly sure that you aren't worthless?

Maybe it's because he's the only one that's shone you so much kindness that he ranks just below your parents. Your neighbors don't even count because usually they're just trying to be polite, and their 'politeness' stings more than a bullet. 

Your thoughts plague you and set a deeper frown in your face. Your eyes are downcast and you're leaning so far into the cushions that you're sure they'll swallow you. That's when Gamzee makes his appearance.

He's put a pizza in the oven now and figured that he'd come back to annoy you. The sudden weight next to you does nothing to detour your thinking.

"Hey now, what has got you all up and sad?" Gamzee asks; his hand lays on your shoulder and when you look at him you see concern sketched plainly on his features.

You sigh. "Nothing."

He shakes his head obviously not believing you. "Naw, something's got a bro upset. Is it me?"

You look away.

"Oh, I see. You still scared? 'Cause I still ain't gonna hurt you. I promised a motherfucker didn't I?"

"No, it isn't that..." You push farther down into the cushions, trying desperately to avoid the subject.

"Then what is it?"

"Uh..." You attempt thinking up some elaborate lie, something that'll get him off your back, but your mind blanks when he grabs your arm. He pulls you over to him and hugs you. Gamzee is hugging you. His arms are around your waist and yours are around his neck, and you don't even care that you're sitting on his lap because damn it he's _hugging_ you. 

"I don't know what has you hurtin' and you don't have to tell me or nothin', but I can't see you all up and sad Tav. It ain't right." He pushes you away a bit so that you're forced to look him in the eye. "Just tell me what I can do to make you happy."

You take a brief moment to consider this before your hands cup his face. To be brutally honest you really do love his face. It's strong and handsome and you have no idea why he wears the greasepaint, because you feel like it's a crime to hide such beautiful features; but that's beside the point. Your hands are on his face and you sigh reluctantly.

"Just don't hate me."

There's a moment where he's completely confused before you pull him to you. 

You kiss him. You have a millions reasons why but you don't want to list any of them. You just want to kiss him, and you hope that he doesn't throw you off him.

Thankfully he doesn't and instead Gamzee takes the initiative and kisses you back. He flips you onto your back and while you inadvertently gasp he pushes his tongue into your mouth.

By god this is the greatest moment of your twenty years; because you've got a remarkably handsome guy kissing you like he's been wanting to for years. Hell, for all you know he very well could have been wanting to since he saw you.

Gamzee has a hand on your thigh while his other holds your head. Your own hands fist into his hair so you can pull him down. You don't know how long you stay like this. You don't know how long your tongue grinds up against Gamzee's and you certainly don't know how long Gamzee had been feeling up your chest, but when he finally pulls away your panting. Your shirt is bunched just above your abdomen and Gamzee is sitting between your thighs. You're pretty sure your legs would be curled around his waist had they still worked. 

"Motherfuck Tav, you shoulda done that sooner," Gamzee pants. He's looking down at you like he _really_ wants to kiss you again. Honestly you're tempted to let him.

"I-I guess I didn't want to, uh, take things to fast," you joke. To be honest if you _had_ been aiming to kiss Gamzee when he broke in you probably still would have thought that a day was way to soon; but hey, you are not complaining.

"Was this what had your thinkpan all messy?"

You nod. "I didn't know if feeling like this was, um, appropriate. Given the circumstances."

Gamzee snorts. "Oh it was all kinds of appropriate brother."

He kisses you again and you let him. He goes slower this time, his tongue glides against yours teasingly before diving back down. You absolutely love it and when he pulls away you whine. Your eyes are partially closed and your breath has practically been stolen away. He pecks at your lips, seemingly not being able to really pull away from you. You lick at his, enticing him to kiss you further. 

He sighs, "Dammit Tav, is this okay? Like, I'm a... you know, and I did break in and all that shit. I fuckin' held a knife to your neck." His thumb traces along the spot the knife had laid, as if it was scarred. "I really fucking regret that..."

You take a moment to think. He's right. You wonder what your parents would think. You're still pretty dependent on them and you know they wouldn't approve of you dating a serial killer. Then there was that. Gamzee killing people. That wasn't good. You shouldn't be liking, no loving, a guy who has voices in his head that lead him to kill people. You just shouldn't. _It's not right._

But honestly you could give less of a damn. You don't care that it has been barely a day since you met him, and you don't care that you haven't had a lot of time to think more into your relationship; if there even is one. You just want to think of the now not the later.

You really just want to be with him.

"No one has to know," you say. Your fingers trace down his arm and you can't bring yourself to look at him. "It's not like people visit often... o-or ever, really."

"I can't help ya pay for your apartment though. Or help buy food for us both. I mean, I eat a shit ton. It's practically like spending a fortune to feed me," he counters.

"My parents pay for the apartment and my job can cover food." You glare at him. How dare he try to make himself out as worthless. Especially to you.

He sighs again and lets his head fall. His forehead lays on your neck and he's hiding his face. 

"Just stay," you say. "Stay and see if we can work it out."

You know he probably feels like he's using you. You are a pretty easy target but that doesn't mean that you fall for any guy who treats you like you're human.

He doesn't move so you lay there waiting, examining every movement he makes. His breath. Hell, you even focus on his /smell/. He doesn't smell bad either. He smells like rain and something dark. It's pleasant. Fuck, you would even say it's familiar.

"Okay," he finally sighs. His voice is deep and raspy. "Just... Just fucking give me a second."

He gets up, grabs his jacket and heads out the door.

"Gamzee!" You yell, but he's gone; and the worst part is you can't get up and run after him.


	3. Be Gamzee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Is this Z? Has she finally uploaded chapter three? By god she has!
> 
> Terribly sorry everyone, college is a bitch to get ready for and unfortunately essays are not my forte. This chapter is a bit short as well. I apologize for that. There is a long break coming up on Wednesday and I'll be using the brunt of that break writing various things including this story. Hopefully I'll be able to get a few more updates in before school, again.

\-------> Be Gamzee

You congratulate yourself for leaving so abruptly. 

_good fucking job_

**YOU LOUSY SHIT. WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING DOING? GET THE FUCK BACK TO THAT BOY**

You shake your head and hurry away from the door. Away from the apartment. Away from Tavros.

You'll admit that one of the reasons you had picked Tav, other than him looking like a fucking easy hostage, was that you were attracted to him. He was all kinds of attractive. From the strip of jet hair to his latino skin he was something that you desired.

Sure you knew that something was incredibly wrong with you but at that moment you hadn't even any fucks. You weren't the type of guy to just let the opportunity slip from your fingers. 

And the voices certainly weren't going to let you either.

You hadn't been the one to hold a knife to Tavros' neck--though you continued to blame yourself--that had been that nasty yelling voice. You hadn't been the one to tie Tavros to his bed; no that was the soft spoken one. You had been the one to joke and laugh and make food for him. You had been the one to decide that making him sleep in the same bed as you was a good idea. You had been the one to study him as he slept. Watched as his face relaxed and as he automatically curled into you; looking for warmth that you were happy to provide. You had let your hand glide down his arm, feeling the soft flesh and the goose bumps. You had been the one to swaddle him in all the blankets he had on his bed; feeling like he had been freezing before you came along.

Honestly you hadn't been thinking too much. You hadn't thought ahead. You hadn't realized that you were a killer. And you certainly didn't think that Tavros would _love you back_.

If he did love you that is. You didn't know; but there lay the problem.

You loved him. You've fucking fallen for a cute little paraplegic who had enough confidence to kiss you; and damn you'll admit that you wish he'd waited until you got your shit together, because now you have no idea what to do.

_you've probably scared the ever loving shit out of him._

**GET YOUR FUCKING ASS BACK TO THAT APARTMENT AND FUCKING LOVE HIM.**

No.

You steel yourself and continue walking away. You cannot go back until the stupid voices in your head back off. You're honestly afraid that they'll hurt him; and you had promised him you wouldn't. If anything you're a man of your word and you're not going to fucking touch him until you get yourself together.

But you're feeling it again. That tingle. That burn before you black out. You're losing it and you have to make it stop.

Does that mean you have to kill someone?

You'll do it, you realize, if it means getting back to Tavros quicker.

_getting confident are we?_

**IF YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING DO IT THE KNIFE IS IN YOUR GOD DAMN JACKET POCKET.**

You're going to hate yourself after this, you really are; but you continue on anyway. You have your hood up to hide your face, seeing as you don't have your greasepaint on, and wait in an alleyway. It's unlit and walled off in the back. No where near cameras either.

It doesn't take long, to your displeasure, before a small woman walks along. 

They're laughing before you realize what you've done. Her throat is slashed, not enough to kill her but enough to ensure that she won't be screaming; and therefor won't be alerting anyone. You drag her into the alleyway and continue to stab. At some point it become less of stabbing and more of pummeling. Your foot collides with her chest over and over and you're pretty sure she's lost any support from her ribs. The crunching under your boot turns into a soft squishing and you take a moment to dip down and grab her hair. You drag her up and pull back slamming her head forward with such force that her face cracks against the wall.

You let her fall with a dead thump at your feet.

Your heart is thumping against your chest and the burning in your veins have vanished. You feel like complete shit and you cannot believe you really just killed a woman. Hell, apparently she's your tenth victim. 

You back out of the alleyway and run. You book it past closed stores and abandoned buildings. Lights blur around you and you slip. You hadn't even noticed the rain before but it makes a frightening comeback when you see lightning. Thunder claps in your ears and suddenly everything is very dark. 

The lights around you are off and while it's dark you can still make out the distinct form of a wheelchair waiting patiently out in the rain. It's owner huddled in a rain jacket and only slightly hiding his view of you.

You hadn't of thought he'd follow you. Seeing as you left his wheelchair just outside his bedroom and he'd have to- fuck, you made him crawl to get his god damn wheel chair to follow you.

You fucking asshole.

"Tav?" You question.

His head shoots up and looks around. "Gamzee? Is that you?"

You get the award for the most inconsiderate asswipe on the face of the planet, because Tavros is indeed outside waiting for you to get your sorry ass back and he's probably freezing. 

"Shit, Tav what are you doing?!" You yell. You push yourself up from the ground and run over to him. He looks up at you with the most innocent look you have ever seen in your life and it just makes you want to jump off a cliff. 

"Waiting for you. I, uh, was going to follow, but I didn't know how well my chair would do in the rain so I, um, waited."

"Fuck, Tav don't wait for me. This motherfucker ain't worth waiting for," you say, adjust his jacket a bit more because holy fuck he is freezing and shivering; and just how long have you been gone?

You shake your head and shush him before he can reply. You just want to get him back inside and warm him up. So you do, and seeing as the elevator won't work without electricity you pick him up and carry him up the stairs; dragging his chair along behind you. Tavros doesn't complain or even talk. He just lays in your arms, head downcast. When you get to his door he unlocks it for you; pulling the key out of his pocket and pushing lightly at the door. You shoulder it open and kick it closed. You then push his wheel chair so it goes flying across the room, disappearing into the darkness of the hall. 

You set him down on the couch. "Don't move," you command before walking to his bathroom. You bring back a set of towels and let the extras fall to your feet.

"I'm o-okay Gamzee," Tavros stutters, clearly _not_ okay.

"No you're not." You blanket him with one towel and use a second one to dry his hair and face. "You're wet and you're freezing. You coulda be gettin' sick too." You don't dare yell at him, he did this for you after all.

You and your stupid problems.

"G-Gamzee... Are you going to leave?" Tavros stammers. He doesn't look at you; his gaze is locked onto his hands in his lap.

You pause for a moment to think. While you don't want to put Tavros in danger you don't want to leave him either. Even if you have to kill to protect him you will. So you just shake your head. "Naw, I think I'll stay as long as you want me."

He looks up instantly with a smile. "G-good, I want you to stay."

You smile along with him. "Let's get ya all warmed up okay?"

He nods and you try your hardest not to crack; because let's face it killing people to keep the psychopathic voices in your head at bay is not how you wanted to keep this relationship going.

And your pretty sure that you aren't supposed to date your captive; but whatever your not one to listen to social standards.

Still, it's worrying you to points that you never knew you had; and with that worry you feel more burning.


	4. I'm a Piece of Shit

It's been a couple days since killing that woman. The power has been off and on since then and the news has shown absolutely nothing about her. It's mostly centered around the storm and how obnoxious it's been. It has been pouring for almost a week now; and while there have been some dry spells where it's simply dark, windy and cold the rain always returns. You don't particularly mind being hole up in bed with Tav. To be quite honest it's really nice. You've learned a lot about him since being with him and you really weren't expecting such a turn in your life. Even the voices seem to like him. That's saying something since they've hated almost everyone you've ever met.

But it hasn't been all nice. Even though the voices seem to calm down whenever Tavros is around they always take a turn for the worse when he isn't around. If he's taking a bath or if you go out to get food the voices just attack. You remember the cashier who you first met at the small little gas station a block away. You really do wonder when they'll find her.

You're not sure how often you'd been killing before but you're going to chock down two killings in a row as excessive. Still, when you came home after the cashier you were met with smiles and hugs.

You swear that Tavros knows. You don't know how he knows but he just has to. He just takes everything in stride; and while your mood swings can be dangerous and obviously murderous at its worst, he is still always _there_ to make everything better.

He's told you stories, mostly about himself. He told you how he lost the use of his legs in the first place--you swear, once you find that spider bitch you'll add her to your list of victims--and what exactly the doctors said was wrong with them. He could get his legs back. It was possible but incredibly expensive. Tavros even said that no matter how much money his parents and he put together they'd never be able to match even half of the amount. Which angers you because you don't understand why anyone would deny Tavros a chance to walk again. There just had to be some charity or someone out there willing to pay for it; but if course there isn't, and you don't think there is anyway you can convince a doctor to fix him pro bono.

Even with your particular set of skills.

Which happens to be killing people.

Which also isn't a valid skill.

Regardless there's nothing you can do and no matter how long you lay in bed nothing is going to get fixed.

"Gamzee!" Tavros yells from the living room.

You immediately rush over, afraid that he's in trouble. Which of course he's not.

Tavros is sitting in front of the TV in the exact same spot you left him. The news is on, flashing words and images across the screen. You hadn't even realized the power had returned, it's seems like it's so rare to have power on now a days.

Tavros points to the TV screen, face set with worry. "They found them."

You know exactly who "they" and "them" are.

"Terror strikes the town tonight as two more bodies have emerged. It seems not even this storm has deterred the Juggalo. Both bodies were found beaten and stabbed. Authorities say that there isn't much evidence to go on as both victims have been dead and exposed to the elements for quite some time. The bodies were also both found in the same location but were killed at different times; leading officials to believed that they were moved from their original location..."

The newswoman continues her story, but you don't really listen. They haven't found any evidence and apparently you moved the bodies--this is a surprise to you because you certainly don't remember doing so--so there isn't much for you to worry about. You just have to keep your head down for awhile because that cashier did work a block away. They'll be snooping about the gas station, maybe even go door to door to ask questions; but you doubt Tavros will turn you in.

Speaking if which, Tavros seems extremely scared; and it surprises you because he doesn't seem to be afraid off you, but rather for you.

"Is this bad? I mean... Well, I know it's bad but I mean, is it, like, bad for you bad? 'Cause, that's the cashier from the gas station, and she didn't work that far away and-"

He rambling at this point, talking so fast that you can hardly keep up. So you shush him, walk around the couch and hug him to your chest. "It's all good Tav."

"But what if they find me? What if they start asking questions and-"

"It's okay Tav. I'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine."

"But..."

You shush him again and rub his back. You can tell his anxiety is getting to him. His breathing is quick and short and he's shaking. So you sit and try your best to calm him down. Hushing his rant and reassuring him.

But you know everything is not fine. Eleven people are dead now because of you and you feel like that's only the start; because while you're sitting here taking care of Tavros the voices are laughing.

And it's getting harder to ignore them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise profusely. I really am sorry. I leave this for like, what, a year and I come back with a short chapter? Damn I'm a horrible author. No excuses! I shall continue and finish this I promise. I'm working on the next chapter as I type. I'll try to update every weekend.
> 
> Also yes, there will be porn. Yup.
> 
> EDIT: And then I leave it for another three years. I'm a piece of shit to be honest. Gamzee can't compare.


End file.
